The Root of All Things
by RunCC
Summary: A mission. An ambush. A lifetime of tyranny. What happened all those years ago when Galbatorix lost his dragon? How did Galbatorix come to know of the Eldunarí? And most of all, how did Galbatorix become the person he is now? Rated M for dark themes; suicide, angst, explicit violence.


The Root of All Things

This fanfiction I wrote is loosely based off of Brom's account to the village of Carvahall about the fall of the Riders. The only characters I used from the real Alagaësia universe were Galbatorix and Vrael. Most of the information based off of the books, such as the dragons, the magic used, and the Eldunarí. However, certain facts are completely made up. Enjoy!

In the farthest northern reaches of Alagaësia, the calm silence suddenly erupted with the thundering flapping of dragons. Three majestic dragons flew through the inky night sky, each piercing through the gloom with its own radiant colour. Atop them, three men were talking and laughing, disturbing the peace of the land. The man in the middle, the obvious leader of them all, gave a loud whoop before climbing in altitude. Higher and higher he climbed, until his companions, eyes wide in awe, could only see but a speck in the air. Then, with a loud roar coming from both him and his glimmering green beast, he began his dive.

The speck in the sky grew larger and larger, until the slightly maniacal grin on the man's face could be clearly seen. The man's long blood-red hair streamed behind him, flapping wildly in the wind. Two hundred feet above the ground, the dragon began pulling out of the dive. The huge shoulder muscles of the emerald beast rolled and flexed as she righted herself right before impact, her claws knocking leaves out of the thick forest. With a joyful roar, she opened her maw, and green fire tinged with white lit up the night sky, bathing the green leaves of the forest in an eerie emerald glow.

The other two dragons responded with enthusiasm, opening their mouths in unison and adding their fire to the mixture. A whirl of green, purple, and yellow fire chased away the dark of the night. The heat made the leaves wither and turn brown. The man with the red hair laughed and said, "Today, you both are full-fledged Riders. Today you are accepted into the Order. And today, we shall purge this land of Urgals!"

A cacophony of cheers and roars filled the night sky, and with a final battle cry, the three flew off. Farther and farther they flew northward, until the ground became so frozen that no vegetation could grow and no man lived. But still, they flew even further, until they reached a place where the lakes never thawed, and the snow never melted. Here, the leader began descending with his companions following. Three brilliant streaks of colour shot towards the Earth in unison, as if three shooting stars without tails had fallen.

The dragons thudded heavily into the ever-frozen ice, and with sure, deft fingers, the men undid their saddles and climbed off. "Galbatorix, give us shelter and fire. Neoge, go see what food you can find," the leader called out. Both men scurried off to accomplish their tasks, each trying to impress the man with the red hair.

Muttering a complicated stream of words under his breath, Galbatorix shattered through the ice with a loud resounding crack, hollowing out a cave for them to sleep in. Accomplishing that, he slid down to the cave, and used his magic to gather some rocks, which he placed in a circle. Again using his magic, Galbatorix placed his hand on the ice inside of the ring of rocks, and fed energy outwards from his gedwëy ignasia1 until a bowl shaped hole was burned in the ice. Accomplishing that, Galbatorix climbed back up to the surface, and with a hint of smugness in his voice, reported, "I'm finished, where's the food, Neoge?"

Neoge snapped, "There is no food here. It's the frozen tundra beyond where life has any hope of survival. I've reached out with my mind and I've found nothing within a fifty league radius of us. We're going to have to eat the last of our rations, and wait until we raid the Urgal's supply of food tomorrow."

Galbatorix glared at him, and angrily retorted, "You're incompetent. Even in training, you couldn't sense a giant angry bear if it were ripping your heart out."

The leader gently said, "I trust Neoge, he's a fully qualified Rider like you Galbatorix, do not turn on one another, that will be the seed of downfall. As for tonight, Neoge is right. As soon as we got here I too tried to find food and I too came up with no results. Do you dare call me incompetent? You? A barely formed Rider of only one day?"

"No, of course not."

"Good, we will do as Neoge says. Tomorrow we will feast like kings, but for today, we must be the humble servants."

Galbatorix grumbled, but did as he was told, slipping over to his sparkling violet dragon and taking the remaining smoked meat out of his saddlebags. Beside him, Neoge went to his radiant yellow dragon, looking as if having a silent thought conversation with his partner-of-life. But the two dragons, magnificent as they are, both pale in comparison to the shimmering, glimmering, and iridescent emerald green in the middle of the pair. The two smaller dragons, even when combined, barely reaches half of the length of the jade dragon. If the dragon extends its wings, it could easily engulf the other two within its folds. That dragon belonged to the man who leads of the group. The leader now had his eyebrows knit in concentration, seeming to be exchanging a thousand words a second with his companion dragon.

Galbatorix didn't exchange any words with his dragon, just retrieved his provisions and retreated back into the ice cave. Staring at the fire pit he'd just made in the ice, he grumbled to himself, "Now what're we supposed to do with this fire pit? With no animals we have no fat to burn, and it's not like anything grows this far north."

"What you do Galbatorix, is use it as a scrying bowl," came the unexpected reply from behind him. Galbatorix started, turning around and coming face to face with the red haired man.

"What do you want?" Galbatorix snarled.

The man held up his hands defensively, "This is my shelter as well, even though you made it. There is no need to get all offensive with me. Eat quickly, we should turn in soon. We'll need all our strength tomorrow if we are to face the Urgals in their home."

Galbatorix angrily turned away and stared at his food. The pathetically small pile of smoked meat angered him even more. He only stayed in the ridiculous Rider training program because he'd envisioned that when he became a fully fledged Rider, he'd be treated like a king. Multi-course meals on golden platters carried to him by servants, all trembling in fear before him. But instead this, this feeble attempt at a meal is all he gets.

Forcing himself to calm down, he painfully swallowed his frustration, and stalked outside to retrieve his sleeping supplies. Still ignoring his dragon completely, he retrieved the animal hide he used as a makeshift mattress, and walked back inside. His dragon's brilliant lavender eyes followed his back, reflecting all the sorrow that she felt towards him ignoring her.

A huge tremble shook the ice, jolting the Galbatorix out of sleep. Disorientated, Neoge started to open his mouth to ask what's going on, but another huge tremor cut him off. Cursing, Galbatorix threw off his blanket and began to run outside to see what's going on. Before he could reach the opening though, a third quake, the largest one yet, threw him to the ground and blocking the exit of the cave with an avalanche of falling ice.

Cracking his head hard against the ice, Galbatorix berated himself for not placing wards around himself. He tried to get up, but the world kept spinning around, forcing him back down until he lay on the ice, unmoving. Beside him, Neoge was speaking quickly in the ancient language, melting some surrounding ice and filling the shallow fire-pit Galbatorix had dug the previous night with the resulting water. Keeping as low as possible, Neoge crawled closer to the fire-pit, not wanting to fall down if the ground shakes again. Using magic to still the surface of the water, he muttered a few more words of magic, and the surface of the water turned black.

From somewhere below the surface, the great hall of the Riders appeared, and on the throne sat Vrael, leader of the Shur'tugal2, in his golden, jewel-embedded throne. The less elegant chairs around him were filled other members of the Council of Elders, except for one empty spot, where the man with red hair would've sat. They seemed to be in a heated discussion, arguing and bickering about a subject unbeknownst to Neoge. They were so engaged in their argument that they didn't notice Neoge's face in the council's scrying bowl until Neoge shouted, "Masters! Please help us!"

Only then did Vrael turn his head. If he was surprised to see Neoge, he hid it well, and instead asked, "Neoge, what is wrong?"

"We're being attacked! I don't know by what… You have to come and save us!"

"Calm yourself Neoge, you're a fully fledged Rider now, you should know what to do. What's attacking you? Why haven't your dragons alerted you? You must remain calm and think of the situation. Only you can save yourselves now, it would take many days of flying for us to reach you, surely you know that?"

From behind Neoge came the calm voice of the red-haired man, "It's the Urgals, they're what's attacking us. They've ambushed us while we were sleeping and are trying to bury us in our ice cave. Our dragons have been tied down and drugged, which is why neither of you heard anything from them. Viridian managed to fight the drugs long enough to tell me this information, but now all three of them are in deep sleep."

Vrael furrowed his brow, "This is troubling news, Urgals cannot have possibly overcome three dragons and their Riders so easily, you must find a way to escape and come back here quick. We have a major crisis and we need your voice in the Council. It's… We'll tell you once you get back. May the stars watch over you." With that, Vrael terminated the connection, leaving the three Riders alone once again.

"Blast it!" came the angry voice of Galbatorix, "That old useless fool is leaving us for dead!"

The red-haired man gave Galbatorix a long prying look before replying, "What Vrael says is true. There is simply no way for them to help us. We must fend off the Urgals on our own, and then I must return immediately. If the Council is in such turmoil, I must hurry back to resolve the issue."

"Then what do we do? Our dragons are incapacitated, we're trapped in this ice cave, and we're surrounded by at least a hundred blood thirsty Urgals!" Neoge howled, throwing his hands up in frustration and panic.

"I demand you get us out of this mess old man, you're the one who got us into it. We could've been sitting like kings back in Ilirea instead of stuck in this mess." Galbatorix roared.

"You lad, are a fully fledged Rider now! You are every bit as qualified as me to get us out of this mess. And no, it wasn't me who got us into this, it was you! It was your foolish reckless idea to purge the entire land of Urgals. No one in the Order agreed to this, as mass genocide was never our way. You should know that the Urgals don't purposely cause war, instead it's just in their blood, and they can't control it. It was only through my pleading due to my liking of you that I managed to convince the Council to allow us to hunt down a band of Urgals, in only to please your bloodlust that you may not do the same to the dwarves, or even the humans later on. So behave yourself, Galbatorix, lest I leave you for the Urgals." The red-haired man glared at Galbatorix one last time with black fire dancing beneath his eyes before turning to Neoge and softening his expression. "As for how we get out of this mess," he replied, "Quite simply, we use magic. Just because our dragons are asleep does not mean their strength is unavailable to us. We could draw upon their strength, as well as the vast energy stored in the jewels of your swords just the same as before. We should have more than ample energy to break through and go on from there."

Neoge calmed down somewhat, but Galbatorix still stood defiantly with his head held high, refusing to quiver under the red-haired man's harsh words. Just as Galbatorix was about to retort, a sudden unexpected beam of light shone in from the entrance of the ice-cave. The three of them froze, both squinting into the radiant beam, trying to determine the source.

"_It's the entrance, it's being cleared" _The red-haired man spoke into their minds after a few seconds, "_Be prepared, the Urgals may come in at any time."_

Galbatorix tensed, his mind filled with ways to kill the Urgals or escape within a matter of seconds. Dead silence, save for the thud of ice blocks being placed down, hung heavily around the cavern. Galbatorix stood, his eyes fixed on the ever-growing entrance hole, trying to force himself to rapidly adjust to the rapidly brightening light. He risked a glance at the other two to see what they were doing. Neoge was standing with his sword drawn, a defiant look on his face, but his shaking knees betrayed his false confidence. His leader was muttering rapidly under his breath, speaking words of power to place wards against physical and mental assault around his body. Galbatorix cursed, having forgotten about wards entirely again. He quickly constructed a couple of wards that prevented physical damage to his body and was about to move on to the mental ones before the entrance hole burst open and the full power of daylight shone in, distracting him.

In the middle of the blinding light stood the silhouette of a massive Urgal. The Urgal must be a Kull, for it stood well over nine feet tall. The massive twisted horns atop its forehead boosted its height by a further three feet, giving the massive Kull a hulking and terrifying image. The Kull opened its mouth in some strange grimace, as if attempting to smile but forgetting how to, and roared, "You in there! We see you flying through the night, and we think, fresh meat! Now we come slaughter our livestock! You die now!"

With a incomprehensible bellow, the Kull dropped down into a crouch, and from behind the bristles of a hundred black arrows, all nocked on to a hundred drawn bows. The moment the Kull was out of their line of fire, the Urgals fired their arrows. The soft twangs of bowstrings releasing the tension seemed almost soft and musical to the red-haired man, in direct contrast to the deadliness of their purpose.

The split second the bowstrings were released, the three of them sprang into action. The red-haired man instantly shouted a word in ancient language, and all the arrows directed to him stopped in mid-air, reversed direction, and flew back towards the Urgals at double their original speed, taking out half of them with frightening ease. He then looked towards Galbatorix, for he had neither the experience nor the skill to think that fast. Instead Galbatorix appealed to brute force, shouting, "Brisingr!" with all his might, and a wall of purple flames appeared in front of him, incinerating all of the arrows that were shot, but at the same time catching his clothes on fire. He yelped and quickly extinguished them with a hastily worded spell, drenching him from head to toe. Satisfied that Galbatorix wouldn't be harmed, the red-haired man turned his attention to Neoge. Neoge, on the other hand, could only stare, dumbfounded, as a swarm of black hornets whistled towards him. He didn't cast a spell to protect himself, nor did he place wards on himself beforehand, or even tried to roll out of the way. He simply gaped, transfixed by the mass of writhing arrowheads. The man with the red hair tried to react to save him, but still he was too slow. The split second he took to remember the spell required to deflect the arrows into the icy wall was all the time the arrows needed to bury themselves into their targets. A multitude of heavy thuds echoed around the frozen cavern, followed by a strangled, gurgling yelp from Neoge's mouth.

The twisted sound reverberated around the frozen confines of the smooth cavern, filling the ears of everyone with the last sound that Neoge would ever make. The spell that the red-haired man was about to cast died on his lips, instead he fell silent, gazing upon the broken body of his student, his fellow Rider, and his friend. Neoge lay on his back, his silvery hair spread out on the floor, stained by his blood. The surrounding ice slowly being dyed a dark red by the liquid life being pooled out his body. From his chest and neck protruded a dozen black arrow shafts with gore-matted fletching, each buried halfway into the mutilated body of Neoge. The sight filled the red-haired man with rage he'd never felt in his life. Black, all-consuming fire ignited from within, lowering a red haze over his vision. Every inch of his body shot full of adrenaline, leaving his brain devoid of logic, his heart devoid of feeling. The rushing of blood pounded through his ears, urging him to extract revenge upon the creatures, the monsters who had taken his companion away.

A feral growl escaped his lips. The pack of Urgals looked startled and tried to back up, stumbling over one another in the process. With black fire dancing in his eyes, the red-haired man sprung forward, unsheathing his sword with one hand while wielding a dagger he pulled from his belt in the other. He sprinted forward, not regarding his own safety, with only revenge on his mind. He used his momentum and his adrenaline boosted strength to slash through the first three ranks of Urgals in one fell swoop, slashing their heads cleanly from their bodies. Without pausing, he used his dagger to parry a clumsy strike from an Urgal's short sword, and sidestepped out of the way of a powerful ax blow. With the speed and grace only elven Riders possess, he slipped under the ax handle, and stabbed forward using his sword to take out the axed Urgal while simultaneously using his dagger and cutting a long ragged line across the chest of the bladed Urgal. Looking up, he saw an endless sea of Urgal heads, all with fixed snarls on their hideous faces. Automatically dodging and swinging his sword, he dimly acknowledged in the back of his mind that there's no way he can use sword and dagger to slay them all, no matter how much energy he takes from his dragon and his sword. He stopped aggressing the Urgals, and instead fell back into a more defensive stance. He regained control of his body and emotions and tried to think of a way to get out of this situation.

He backed up to the cave entrance, using the natural choke-point of the cave entrance as a funnel, that he may easily slaughter the Urgals one by one. Doing so left him with enough concentration to think of a way to try to overcome such impossible odds. Even from this position, he was rapidly tiring, and the dragons are still stuck in their stupor. Even if he drew as much energy from Viridian as he could without killing her, he could only kill about a quarter, if even that of all the Urgals outside. There were at least a thousand Urgals, each striving to achieve the honor of killing a Dragon Rider. "Not today," he grimly thought to himself as an idea popped into his head, "Today I die, but none of you shall kill me."

Quickly, before his logical brain could make him rethink his plan, he sprung into action. He slew one more Urgal with a clean stab through the heart with his shimmering jade-green blade, before leaping back and using magic to lift giant ice blocks from the ground to plug up the entrance hole. He used another burst of magic to permanently seal the hole by joining together the individual blocks into one cohesive whole, and then sealed that to the surrounding wall. Accomplishing that, he knew that it would take at least a couple minutes for the Urgals to smash through the seamless ice wall, giving him enough time to finish what he needed to do.

He turned to Galbatorix and spoke quickly over the muffled thumps of Urgals trying to bash the wall down. "Galbatorix, for once in your life, be quiet and listen. What I'm about to do has never been done before, so I'm not sure what's going to happen. What I do know well enough is many Urgals will die. I don't have time to explain to you exactly what I'm going to do, but I need you to survive in order to tell the Council of Elders what has happened. Never before has this many Urgals banded together with one common goal. Anywhere close to this number and they'd be at each other's throats before anything has been accomplished. The Council must know of this troubling news, and you must be the one to tell them. Don't interrupt me! Let me finish. You must be the one to tell them, because while many Urgals will die, so will I. The spell will drain all of my energy, and I dare not take any from Viridian, for fear that the spell may kill her as well."

The red-haired man perked his ears. The thudding was getting louder and less muffled, meaning the Urgals were almost through. Instinctively talking more rapidly, he said. "The Council of Elders will doubt you, of that I'm sure. But once you tell them my name, they will know for sure that you are speaking the truth. I've told no one but the Council of Elders and my dragon what my name is, but now I must tell you. Before I do though, I need you to swear an oath in the ancient language to never tell anyone else my name, for my name, and the names of every other member on the Council of Elders, is the secret word that the Council uses in order to determine true information from the false. This is why no one knows the names of the members in the Council, no one except the people in the Council themselves. Now, enough explaining, repeat after me…"

Satisfied now that Galbatorix has uttered the oath in the unbreakable bonds of the ancient language, the man with the red hair continued, "One more thing you need to tell Vrael. You must tell him that I think a Shade has been released into the land. It's the only possible explanation for why the Urgals are able to converge here. Tell him to act immediately and exterminate the Shade, no matter the cost. Else chaos will befall the land, and not a single creature would escape. Do you remember all of that? Good. I need you to place-"

Suddenly, a massive crack appeared in the wall, distracting the red-haired man for a split second. Before he could re-gather his thoughts, the ice wall explosively shattered, spraying ice shards all over the cavern. The entrance once again held a mass of Urgals, who instantly began to pour into the cave, eager to be one of the only Urgals who've killed a Dragon Rider. The red-haired man gave wildly looked at Galbatorix and shouted, "My name is Worren!" and sprinted into the sea of Urgals.

Galbatorix watched in astonishment as Worren sprinted into the writhing mass of Urgal limbs and weapons. He was sure that Worren is going to be mutilated by the dozens of flashing blades immediately, but his eyes only grew wider as all the Urgals near him instantly froze at the same time, each mirroring each other's wide-eyed expression of surprise, with feral snarls stuck onto their grey faces. With a jolt, Galbatorix realized that Worren must be inside of all their minds, overtaking their motor functions and freezing them in place. The concentration and power required for that task must be impossible! And yet it is happening before his very eyes. Worren must've kept a lot of secrets from him, not only his name.

He stared as Worren disappeared into the throng of Urgals, only to reappear the instant he got past the line of immobile Urgals. Worren leapt impossibly high into the air, sailing over the heads of even the tallest Urgals, and landing somewhere even deeper into the Urgal mob. He thought to himself, "Now what is this old man going to do? His wards can only protect him from physical attacks from all these Urgals for a brief period of time, and there's no way he can control all of the Urgals to force them to stop attacking." For even now, certain Urgals in the front line are beginning to regain control of their bodies, and their hungry eyes rested on Galbatorix, eager to close in for the kill. Whatever Worren plans to do, he'd better do it quickly and he'd better do it effectively. Galbatorix knew that he was an able warrior, and can probably fend off a dozen Urgals at the same time easily, but with the sheer number of them out there, he knew that without some miracle, there would be no way out of this.

A blazing wall of light appeared around of him, momentarily blinding him and causing him to shut his eyes. Before he could regain his senses, a massive explosion rocked through the cavern. The explosion instantly ripped through every Urgal in sight. The cavern could not contain the force of the explosion, and so it collapsed. Massive chunks of ice rained down from the ceiling, smashing into the floor and shattering into thousands of deadly shards. The ice blocks that didn't smash piled up higher and higher, until it climbed over Galbatorix's head, burying him in a coffin of ice. The screen of light that was placed around him stopped the explosion and the resulting falling debris from injuring Galbatorix, but he saw that the light is flickering wildly, indicating that the ward, strong as it is, is giving away under the weight of all the chunks of ice.

Galbatorix decided on what to do the split instant before the ice collapsed the shield. Galbatorix pumped magic into his legs, and leaped straight up as high as he could. He trusted that his own wards would protect him for the brief time that he would need to clear the ice on top of him. He timed the jump perfectly, leaping just as the light shield collapsed around him, forming tiny sparkling crystallized shards that slowly fell to the ground which he stood on. But he was no longer there, the magic-propelled jump was fast and powerful enough to clear him out of the crush of ice blocks and into the open air.

Once in the air, Galbatorix used a spell to suspend him midair, that he may survey the carnage around him. The previously polished pristine ice is now utterly destroyed. Huge chunks of it got ripped out and strewn around the surrounding hillside. The ice cave that he had constructed the night before is now completely obliterated, with only a hollow indent in the cracked and torn ice sheet as any indication that it previously existed. Adding to the devastated landscape were the broken bodies of hundreds of Urgals. Their grey blood smeared over the mutilated landscape, and their unmoving bodies scattered like stars in the night sky. Towards the outer limits of the icy lake stood the ruins of a giant catapult. The massive war machine was used to attack the ice-cave, and it was what had collapsed the entrance to the cave in the beginning of the assault. Galbatorix then noticed that the three dragons, who had rested right beside their camp, are also surrounded by a light screen. "Worren must've done that," he mused, "That old fool, but how did he set off an explosion that massive? No way he could have had enough energy in his body to set up two wards that powerful and still have enough left over to set off that explosion."

Galbatorix racked his brain for an answer, but still he could not think of any possible explanation for the amazing feat that Worren had accomplished. He scanned the scarred ground for Worren's body, to see if that could provide a clue to how he managed it. Galbatorix didn't feel any remorse that Worren and Neoge were no more, instead, he felt content, elated even, as if their deaths had satisfied a need inside of him that he hadn't realized even existed. He scanned the ground again and again from his position hovering above the earth, but he couldn't see any traces of Worren, not even when he muttered a spell that lets him detect organic material underneath the ground. All he could see were an endless pile of Urgal bodies.

On his fourth sweep, a flash of light caught his eye. When he turned to see what it was, he saw that the light protecting the dragons from the explosion had blinked out of existence in a burst of brilliance, only leaving behind a burning afterimage as any evidence that they had existed at all. As Galbatorix blinked rapidly to clear his eyes, his keen elf ears picked up the sound of a muffled thump. The sound repeated itself over and over again in rapid succession, until Galbatorix lost count after counting up to well over a hundred. There, the sounds stopped, only to be replaced by the thundering of feet. His vision beginning to clear up, he saw fuzzy images of humanoid figures running across the frozen ground. With his sight improving rapidly, Galbatorix became aware of two things: the figures had gnarly twisted horns upon their foreheads, and they were sprinting towards the dragons.

Galbatorix struggled to piece together what was happening, somehow, Urgals had survived the explosion, and they've been hiding under the bodies of their fallen comrades, waiting for the perfect time to strike against the vulnerable dragons. He then realized that the only reason the Urgals haven't attacked the dragons before is because the wards around the dragons must've been placed at the very beginning of the assault, even before he had woken up. "Worren must've woken up way before us, probably because he sensed the minds of an entire army of Urgals. Once he realized that they intended to attack us, he placed the wards around the dragons. He must've been about to wake us up, but the catapult had fired and jolted us all awake anyways," Galbatorix thought to himself.

"But now the wards are gone!" Galbatorix suddenly realized that he wasted valuable time trying to puzzle out what had happened. With a foul curse, he shouted a word of ancient language and hurled himself toward the mob of Urgals, who by now have surrounded his violet dragon. Still drugged, his dragon had no way of defending herself. Galbatorix poured on more speed, streaking downwards towards the dragons. When he was three quarters of the way there, an Urgal made the first cut down the left flank of her chest. Fiery hot dragon blood poured from the wound, splashing onto the ground and causing great jets of steam to billow upwards. Through their mental connection, Galbatorix felt the pain emitting from his dragon's unconscious mind, and he howled in empathy. Another cut was made on her, this time on the iridescent violet scales on her cheek. Again blood poured from the wound, again smoke billowed from the ground, and again Galbatorix howled.

Galbatorix reached his dragon, but the sheer amount of bodies forced him away as soon as he landed. Flashing swords danced in his vision, and he's forced to draw his own sword in response. With a coarse battle cry, Galbatorix danced and weaved his way around swords and axes, while taking out as many Urgals as he possibly could. What he couldn't deflect with his own sword, his wards did for him, but they were quickly draining him of his energy, and he knew he could not continue for much longer. That compounded by the fact that the waves of pain rolling off his dragon was now uninterrupted, and with each new slash, cut, and stab wound, came even more pain. The steam made battle extremely difficult, as Galbatorix could not see incoming strikes from blades until the very last second, many of which he could not defend and hit his wards.

Exhausted as he was, his dragon was in much worse condition. Not only did she not have any wards to protect her, but she was also the main focus of the Urgal's attacks. Galbatorix could feel her life force ebb away as more and more blood poured from her body. Galbatorix desperately poured what strength he had left into his dragon to try to sustain her long enough that he may defeat the Urgals surrounding her, but no matter how much of his own life he cascaded her with, she still kept slipping, closer and closer to the void. An unearthly howl burst from Galbatorix's lips as his dragon teetered on the edge of death, sustained only by his energy.

A fresh burst of strength burst from deep inside Galbatorix, and he fought with renewed vigor, slashing and stabbing with the strength and speed of a Shade, he fell Urgal after Urgal. He was now right beside his dragon, backed up against her massive neck, fighting desperately to protect her most vital regions. But he was completely surrounded. No matter how skilled he was with a sword, he cannot fend off eight or more Urgals at the same time. His physical wards now completely depleted, he received an innumerable amount of scratches and bruises. Then, his vision went black, a terrible pain erupted from his temple, and he slumped to the ground. Try as he might, he couldn't get up again. He was utterly spent, there was no escape, no way out, no miracle.

Vast loneliness unexpectedly filled him, loneliness so great that he felt like he couldn't live on any longer. The loneliness pressed against him from all sides, crushing him, suffocating him. And then, the sadness came. Despair so great that he knew he would never be the same again, he would never smile, or laugh, or rejoice again in his lifetime. The anguish filled every inch of his body, filling him with such pain that mental became physical, and he felt as if his entire being has been unraveled. There's no point to live anymore, no point… No point to go on, no point to anything. Nothing matters now, nothing except the pain of losing his dragon, his lifelong companion, his only friend.

Weeping and hoarsely crying out from the pain and anguish, Galbatorix didn't care about the Urgals anymore, he turned and threw himself at his dragon, urging her to come back to him, not caring about the sword that is striking his back, not caring about the axe that buried itself into its shoulder, for the pain didn't come close to the pain he felt over his dragon. He kept embracing his dragon, as if clutching to the physical body of his dragon, he could grasp his dragon's soul back from the black, empty void.

Galbatorix turned around and faced the Urgals, his bloodied, tear streaked face hung low as he waited for some Urgal to end his life, that he may join his dragon in whatever lies beyond. Before an Urgal took the chance to strike though, Galbatorix suddenly snapped his head up. His pupils danced with black fire. He had only one goal in life now. He needs to live. He needs to avenge his dragon. To kill the murderers of his dragon is the only reason why he lives, it's why he exists. He manifested his sorrow into black fury. His concentration so focused, he instantly broke into the mind of the other two dragons and drew upon their vast reserve of strength.

He screamed. The scream carried far beyond the borders of the frozen lake. He screamed that all of Alagaësia would hear his fury. He screamed to every Urgal in the land, that they may all regret the mistakes of their brethren. But most of all, he screamed to the gods. To whoever dictated the actions of every being that lived under the sky. His wordless scream contained everything he wanted to say. A thousand words packed into one tortured scream. The magic infused scream ripped through the air, throwing Urgals off their feet and into the sky. The scream contained the force to strip flesh from bones, hollowing out every cavity of the Urgals until only the skeletons were left. Then, the skeletons changed color, from milky-white to a charred black. The scream contained so much force that the very bones of the Urgals cracked and crumbled away, until of the thousand Urgals that had come to attack them, only dust remained. Galbatorix kept screaming until the dust scattered all over Alagaësia, never to be seen as the hated creatures it once was again.

_Galbatorix stared in wonder with wide eyes at the dragon egg. The radiant purple stone lay before him on a red velvet lined box resting on a raised pedestal. The smooth, violet surface of the egg resembled a precious stone, but Galbatorix knew that within the egg lay a living dragon. Galbatorix knew that if the egg hatched for him, he would be the pride of the family. No longer would he be under the shadow of his siblings, no longer would he have to work to be accepted into the high standards of elven life, no longer would he have to be like everyone else. He would finally be unique, he would be special, he would be all-powerful! Galbatorix never wanted anything else so badly in his ten years of life. He so desperately wanted, no. He needed the egg to hatch for him! In all of his fantasies of the future, none existed where he was happy without a dragon. Galbatorix didn't think he'd be able to continue on living if the dragon did not hatch for him; without the dragon, there will no longer be a Galbatorix._

_ With trembling fingers, he reached out towards the polished amethyst stone. Closer and closer the outstretched fingers crept, until only a mere inch away from the egg, the hand hesitated. Galbatorix's hand hung there for a second, and then plunged forward toward the egg with blinding speed. Unlike the previous initiates before him, Galbatorix did not lightly brush the egg with their fingertips; instead he grasped the entire girth of the three foot long egg, enclosing it with his entire hand. He waited, holding his breath. His entire body tense with anticipation, hoping for a sign, any sign that the egg would hatch, even the smallest twitch would indicate that the dragon would choose him. Galbatorix held his hand there for a full minute, before the ambassador elf, who had brought the egg to the testing hall, told him that he's been there long enough, and that he had not been chosen._

_ Crushing disappointment overwhelmed Galbatorix's mind. He numbly stepped back from the egg, tears freely falling from his face. His hopes for the future crushed, Galbatorix stared blankly at the egg, not even having the energy or the will to be angry at the unborn dragon. Still weeping, he turned around to walk down the hall, the same hall all the other elves that the dragon failed to hatch for walked down. Just as he took a step though, a tiny squeak caused him to pause. A second, louder squeak immediately followed the first one. Galbatorix turned and stared at the egg, dumbfounded at what was taking place. The egg, which was still and immobile only a minute ago, was now rocking back and forth inside the box so violently that the boxed tipped over the edge of the pedestal, and tumbled towards the floor. Before the ambassador could dive to catch the egg, it struck the floor, emitting a crystal note, clear as a bell. The eggshell developed a long crack running along the face as a result of hitting the ground, causing the third squeak to be the loudest yet._

_ More and more cracks joined the first one, all running along the surface of the egg in jagged lines. A piece of the egg in the middle suddenly wobbled, and after a series of squeaks, began to lift up. All of Galbatorix's hopes and dreams for the future suddenly rushed back in, along with all his emotions and will to live. He envisioned himself sitting at the high chair in the Council of Elders, surrounded by the other Elders all looking at him with awe-struck expressions stuck on their faces. And why shouldn't he? He was Galbatorix, the best of the best. He deserved to be king of the Riders, king of elves, king of all of Alaga__ësia! His imagination carried him far into the future, where he would be sitting in a jewel encrusted golden throne, looking out upon the land and all that was in it, for it was all his. All this and more shall be his, because standing in front of him, staring at him with wide lavender eyes, was a dragon._

Galbatorix remembered that day now, as he looked upon his dragon. He thought of himself when he was ten years old, so young and full of hope. He thought that Riders back then were unstoppable, and their dragons unkillable. Now he knew how quickly the wheel of fate turns. Only last night did he, Worren, and Neoge sail through the night sky, celebrating the day they ascended into full Riders that he and Neoge shared. Now, they were dead, as well as his lifelong companion of heart and mind. He couldn't bear it any longer. He gave his dragon one last sorrow filled look, before he picked up his lilac coloured sword, and prepared to end his life.

He look in one last look at the surrounding scene, taking in the final sight of his life. The sun was setting to the west, painting the sky a deep orange. There were no more Urgal bodies, for Galbatorix's scream had turned them all into dust, and scattered it all over Alagaësia. Still, evidence of the assault was everywhere. Grey Urgal blood is still smeared all over the icy terrain, and even the ground bears scars from the great battle. The lake, which was so polished and smooth the night before, now has a massive crater in the center from Worren's explosion. Great chunks of the lake were strewn all over the surrounding hills. But the most significant portion of the landscape lay near the center of the lake. The mighty dragons lay there, scales glittering in the light of the setting sun, curled up and still asleep. When they would wake up, Galbatorix did not care, for his dragon was dead, and nothing else mattered to him.

Galbatorix took a deep breath and lifted his sword to his neck, and prepared to end his life, once and for all. Drawing his sword back, he glanced again at the dragons, regretting that events turned out this way. Just as he was about to draw his sword across his neck, the two dragons, yellow and green, stirred. It only took them a moment to fully rouse themselves from their sleep, but when they did, they immediately sensed that their Riders weren't sharing their consciousness with them. They looked at Galbatorix and immediately pressed against his mind. Great clouds of worry lined their thoughts as they demanded, "Where is my Rider?"

Galbatorix thought that they at least deserved the truth, and poured his memories of the events of last night into the minds of the dragons. Colours, shapes, sounds, smells, and all the feelings poured into the dragons, from the confusion when they first woke up, to the horror when they first discovered what was happening, and finally to the death of Neoge.

The consciousness of Neoge's golden dragon turned dark. He growled into Galbatorix, "Where are those pathetic two feet short horned beasts now?"

Galbatorix replied, "They are dead, all of them."

Barely able to contain his grief, the yellow dragon roared, "Good, then I am no longer needed here!"

With that, his grief-filled roar came so loudly that the ground shook and the ice cracked, before taking off and flying up as high as he could go. Galbatorix and Viridian watched the yellow dragon climb higher and higher until they could see him no more. Then, they saw a yellow speck in the sky, growing larger and larger, hurting towards the ground. Viridian was the first to realize what he was about to do, and attempted to drive himself into the thoughts of the yellow dragon, trying to force him to stop. Unfortunately, the yellow dragon was too determined at what he was trying to do, and there was no way into his mind. The dragon dove closer and closer to the ground, until finally, with a terrible thud, he slammed into the icy earth, killing himself instantly.

The two stared at the immobile, broken body of the dragon for a long time, neither of them wanting to break the silence that has settled over the land. The land was completely devoid of sound, as if even the birds and the beasts have silenced themselves to pay respect to the great creature that had once lived. Finally, Viridian broke the silence and urged, "Finish the tale Galbatorix, what happened after Neoge departed our world?"

And so Galbatorix continued, when he got to describing Worren's death, Viridian roared even louder than the yellow dragon, and in her fury, she summoned fire from her belly, and a writhing green inferno burst from her mouth, incinerating the land. She continued to breathe fire, attempting to burn the world to ashes for what it has done to her Rider. The fire suddenly stopped, and Viridian gagged. Galbatorix watched as Viridian gagged again and again, as if trying to dislodge something from her throat. Viridian opened her mouth, and a wave of hot air washed over Galbatorix, showering him with the stench of the breath of a dragon. He forced himself not to gag as he peered into the depths of Viridian's throat. What he saw made his eyes grow wide in astonishment.

In the depths of her long throat, but coming closer to the opening of her mouth every convulsion, was a emerald jewel, about a foot in diameter. Viridian constricted and relaxed her throat another time, and the emerald jewel slid down the rest of her throat so fast that Galbatorix nearly missed it. Galbatorix caught the slimy jewel in his hands, and gasped as he felt Viridian's consciousness press against his, closer than ever before. He felt her every thought and emotion, every sensation of her body. He stared down at the jewel, which is now glowing a soft sea green, and then looked at Viridian for an explanation.

"Ah," She softly grunted, "That is my Eldunarí, my heart of hearts. I must've disgorged it from the shock of losing Worren. I'm glad, This means I have no need for my physical body anymore, and I'm free to die. But when I'm needed by the Council for advice, I will be there for them. Bring it back to Vroengard will you? My Eldunarí contains all of my thoughts and emotions, all of my wisdom, and all of my strength. Worren said that a Shade is upon the land, that means the Council will need every dragon it can muster, but I no longer feel compelled to live. Go bring my Eldunarí, it's the best thing I can offer in these grave times. Go, and leave me be."

With that, Viridian lay down. She closed her great green eyes, and was no more. She had passed on into the void, unable to live on with her sorrow. Instead, she chose to end her own life. She didn't do it flashily like the yellow dragon, instead she used her rarely used magic one final time in her life, and drained the life out of herself painlessly. Except she wasn't gone forever, her mind and strength, her wisdom and magic, her feelings and emotions, all live on in her Eldunarí. Galbatorix could feel her drowning in her ever growing pool of sadness, vowing to never speak to anyone again unless the world was going to end without her. She withdrew deep into herself, and settled herself for eternal depressed desolation.

Galbatorix stared at the three bodies of once majestic beasts. He couldn't take it anymore, if the dragons couldn't take their sorrow, why should he? The Council can rot for all he cares, they've abandoned him in his time of need. He didn't care about fulfilling Worren's last wish, he just wants to end it all. He began to raise his sword to his throat again. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Viridian's Eldunarí. It's not glowing anymore, he could still faintly sense the consciousness of Viridian, but she's incapacitated by sorrow.

Still, she had said that her strength is also stored in the Eldunarí. Galbatorix remembered the final moments of last night, when he so easily ripped the strength from the two dragons to kill the final Urgals. He thought about his memory when his dragon first hatched for him, how he envisioned himself as the king of the world. Finally, he thought about his dragon, and how she died as a result of the Council of Elder's decision to abandon them. All these thoughts swirled around in his head, and he realized that he did have a purpose to live now. It wasn't to fulfill the final wish of Worren, it was to avenge his dragon and kill the Council of Elders. Then, when he became king of Alagaësia, he could do whatever he wanted to the Urgals, punishing them for the mistakes of their forefathers. That is what he will do, for that is what's right.

Worren had said that the Council needed to use the Eldunarí to eliminate the Shade, which must mean that there are more of them, hidden by the treacherous Council. A plan formulated in his head. He knew what he must do now. He has the strength of one of the strongest dragons by his side, he can do it. He will steal away the Eldunarí from the Riders, one by one if he has to, and break them and bend them to his will. When he has enough, he will challenge Vrael to a battle. After Vrael is defeated, he will burn the Order of the Riders to the ground, and rebuild the world as he sees fit.

Galbatorix picked up Viridian's Eldunarí and began walking south. He broke out into laughter, echoing between the frozen hills in the far northern reaches of Alagaësia. Galbatorix kept on laughing as he planned the downfall of the Riders, laughing his way into madness.

_**End**_

1, Gedwëy ignasia: Means shining palm in the Ancient Language, silvery diffused spiral that marks every Dragon Rider.f  
2, Shur'tugal: The Dragon Riders in the ancient language.


End file.
